


Cannibal turned Therapist turned Guardian

by cruciomysoul



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, First Meetings, Kindergarten, M/M, Parent Hannibal Lecter, Teacher Will, parent's evening, parent/teacher conference, paternal, reception, still a cannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is a reception teacher (Kindergarten, I believe?) and is pretty confident he knows the parents of all the kids in his class.</p>
<p>Except, apparently, he doesn't.</p>
<p>// AU, Hannibal is Abigail's guardian, and it's parent's evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannibal turned Therapist turned Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> I've made Will a Reception teacher (which is 4 and 5 year olds) and I used Reception because I am British and frankly know next to nothing about the American education system, so. I just wrote what I knew best.  
> Potential Series? Maybe.

An infant school teacher was not the career that Will initially had in mind. Lecturing, perhaps, but kids? No, never kids. Will was not good with kids. Will was not good with people, period.

And yet here he was, 5 PM on a school night, sat in his artistically decorated (by 4 and 5 year olds collectively) classroom, awaiting the arrival of his last parent for the evening. His head was a little fuzzy, and his foot was tapping restlessly against the carpeted floor. (Which was not, thankfully, decorated with chewing gum. The perks of having a class full of children too young to experience such a thing. He almost felt bad for Mrs Katz across the way, almost.)

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he watched as it opened and as-

As someone Will did not know entered. He was certain he had met every single parent of his class already once before, this was the second parent’s evening of the year after all, but alas. This man – in the impeccable 3 piece suit, complete with a matching pocket square and broach – was a complete stranger to him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met…” Will hurried to stand for the approaching man, extending a hand somewhat awkwardly. “I’m-”

“Will Graham.” The man – whose accent Will could not place, not for the life of him – took his hand, firm, and gave it a resolute shake. Will could feel the callouses, both his own and both this man’s, pressing together. “Abigail has told me a lot about you.” Will blinked in surprise. So this man was Abigail’s father?

“Oh, I see. So you must be-” Again, Will was cut off. Was he this rude to every one upon first meeting them?

“Doctor Lecter; Abigail’s guardian,” Will felt just a little bit stupid right then. Of course. He’d been told that when he had first been given the class; besides, Abigail and Doctor Lecter looked nothing like one another! “Forgive me for my rudeness,” He continued, giving Will a slight bow. “But I did not wish for you to get the wrong impression.” Will opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He swallowed, unable to form words- what was he supposed to say to that? He had no idea.

“Shall we take a seat?” The man – Doctor Lecter, Will corrected – motioned to the table with his hand, a small smiling playing at his lips.

“Uh, yes, of course.” Will stumbled. He was usually composed. He was never seamless, but still. He tried not to appear so unsettled towards parents. They were always so eager to criticise. “Guardian, right. Not father.”

“Not father, no.” The man echoed, pulling out the chair and taking a seat opposite Will.

“May I ask…?” Will trailed off, blushing slightly.

“How Abigail came to be in my possession?” _Possession._ Will wasn’t sure how he felt about one of his kids being referred to as a belonging, as something inanimate, unfeeling, unneeded-

Just as Will opened his mouth again, Doctor Lecter resumed speaking. “Patient confidentiality resides even in death, Mr. Graham. I’m afraid I cannot say more other than that Abigail is the daughter of a former patient of mine.”

Will’s blush deepened as he nodded. “O-of course, I shouldn’t have asked.” Something in the man’s eyes told him that no, no he should not have.

“How is Abigail’s progress coming along?” He asked simply, clasping his hands together atop the table. Will noted that he had a very professional posture- therapist, he thought. Not a doctor of medicine.

But right. Progress. Abigail’s progress. The progress that Abigail has been making. He should talk about that. He should talk about that instead of staring at Doctor Lecter. Fumbling through the piles of sheets on his desk – never stacked neatly, always out of line, but always precise – he finds Abigail’s, and pulls it aside. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, right. Uh, she’s doing well, actually. Really well. I suppose you read with her at home, yes? She’s very advanced for her age.” Doctor Lecter nodded, but refrained from speaking aloud on the subject. Will suspected what Abigail read was perhaps not quite so suitable for her age range. But that was not his place to say. “She’s very quiet, though. Sometimes too quiet, I often wonder what’s going through her head a lot.” Will let out a small laugh, and was surprised to find another small smile flash over the doctor’s face, if only brief.

“Abigail prefers to internalise almost everything. It is not quite so healthy, but it is better than the alternative of her blurting out every single thought she has. I am assured by her therapist however that her emotional development is on track, and this is purely a phase she shall grow and mature out of.”

Now _that_   surprised Will. So much that he balked. “Abigail sees a therapist?” He asked, brow crinkling. She wasn’t even 5 years old. She was well behaved, what on earth could-

“Unofficially.” Doctor Lecter confirmed. “A colleague of mine, Dr Bloom; she comes over for the occasional baby-sitting duty and dinner. Abigail is very fond of her,” Will nodded at this. Bloom was familiar.

“Actually, I think,” He started explaining, before standing up (and knocking his chair back a few paces) “Abigail has referenced her before.” He turned and made his way to his desk, beginning to dig around in one of the drawers. “Ah,” he pulled out a sheet of paper, slightly creased, and brought it over, sliding it across the table to Doctor Lector. “I’m assuming the Bloom she has drawn is your colleague.”

The drawing was of a stag, in one corner. Antler’s extending far higher than they ought, and expanding in a twisted and gnarled way that indicated the beast was in no way healthy. Besides that, was a (potential) person. A triangular body, chubby legs, stick arms, and a- flower, for the head. In shaky, uneven, Crayola, ‘Bloom’ was written across the top. Doctor Lector couldn’t help but chuckle, and Will couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t in response to his colleague’s new accessory.

Doctor Lector must have read it in his face, somehow, for he said, “Abigail’s father was a hunter. I was not aware she had retained that particular knowledge of him. He is a subject I endeavour to avoid at all costs, until she is ready to confront it.”

Confront? Will didn’t like the sound of that. Like, Abigail’s father was- a demon, or something.

“Do you keep all of the drawings your students make, Mr Graham?” Will shook his head;

“No, only the ones that are given to me?”

“How touching,” Doctor Lector appraised, passing the drawing back with a nod. “You must forgive me again, Mr Graham-” It was Will’s turn to interrupt, blushing lightly. He wasn’t quite sure why he was letting his mouth do this.

“Will. You can, er, call me Will. If you like.” Will didn’t meet Doctor Lector’s eyes, had avoided them ever since he had stepped over the threshold, but he could still see his face.

Could see the smile- no, the _grin_ that was in place. Teeth and all. Predatory. Like Doctor Lector was the lion and Will was the stag, the unsuspecting, the victim. It was unsettling. It was enticing. It was stirring up Will’s inside, causing discord, chaos, warmth, and- _and this was neither the time nor place._

“Will.” Doctor Lector said, sounding it out, tasting the word, letting his accent go thick and his voice heavy. “Then, I must insist that you call me Hannibal. Familiarity is best shared between two, after all.” Will nodded, and Hannibal continued his venture from earlier. “Professional curiosity can be the Achilles’ heel of a man, and so I find myself compelled to ask; where do you fall on the spectrum?”

Will should have expected this. He barely refrained himself from snapping at Hannibal, from telling him not to psychoanalyse him, that they were here to discuss Abigail, not- not whatever _this_ was.

But Hannibal had asked for forgiveness.

“Closer to Asperger’s and Autistics than narcissists or sociopaths.” Will found himself saying, tight lipped.

“You have a difficult time in social situations, yes?” Will remained silent, and Hannibal took it as invitation to continue. “Regardless, you seem to be able to communicate extraordinarily with the children in your class. The parents, however, not so much. Do they intimidate you?”

“Have you turned this into a therapy session?” Will asked, amused, his eyebrows rising.

Hannibal shook his head. “No, merely a segue. I was thinking perhaps we could continue this discussion in the comfort of my home, with Abigail present, and- dinner, too.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Blunt. Will did not like hidden agendas. Hannibal’s lips curled up into another smile, and again, he did not feel afraid.

“I am asking to cook for you, Will. I would not be adverse, however, to turning it into a date.” The smile did not leave Hannibal’s face, or eyes, as Will finally met them. He blinked, once, and found himself saying “All right.” Even before he had given himself explicit permission to do so.


End file.
